


Past Horrors Are But A Shadow

by JadeMage



Category: Cats - Fandom
Genre: Cats, Cute, Fluffy, M/M, Magical, Mysterious, curse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-11
Updated: 2020-02-20
Packaged: 2021-01-29 00:33:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21401212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JadeMage/pseuds/JadeMage
Summary: Macavity has had a dark past and a difficult life, although that’s no reason to blame him for his actions. But for the longest time, he’s been searching for something more, trapped in the confines of a curse placed upon him by his father.Munkustrap just wants to defend his clan after a ravaging experience with the evil Macavity. But perhaps in his heart he knew that exile was not the path Macavity was destined for?Mistoffelees is a shy, small tom looking for something more exciting than hiding in the background, although his heart is too big for his chest.And the Rum Tum Tugger is just an overconfident cat looking for a bit of romance to spice up his life.None of them expect what happens when the curse is lifted, and freedom for so many more than just Macavity is given.
Relationships: Mistoffelees/Rum Tum Tugger, Munkustrap/Macavity
Comments: 4
Kudos: 20





	1. Defenses Down

Macavity POV

From birth, I was different. My pattern was unique. My eyes had a gleam of something almost scary in them. The Jellicles didn’t know what to think.  
I knew from the beginning I was different. My face would get hot when any of the other tom kittens would approach me — especially Munkustrap. The girls avoided me, and I was okay with that.  
But from a very young age, I found beauty in pain. There is something lovely in the anguish of a soul. A completely, entirely shattered soul has this broken-glass, beautiful pain that cannot be replicated by anything else. So when I was growing up, I had to hide it. Hide my true nature, hide my opinions. And then I found I had certain abilities. I could appear where nobody was expecting. I could fly, I could use minor lightning. This was a revelation. So behind my father’s back, I used my skills to elicit that beautiful pain from the newborn kittens — Rum Tum Tugger, Mistoffelees, Bombalurina, and others. They were so young that they won’t ever remember it.  
But when Gus found out, he immediately told my father.  
Old Deuteronomy was so ashamed to have raised such a horrible son, and while Munkustrap and the other Jellicles my age were with the older cats, my father pulled me aside. It turned into an argument, and in frustration, he pronounced an exile — a curse, of sorts — upon me.  
Never again could I be accepted by any members of the clan, or else my entire being would collapse, and I would be found lost and alone as a new being in the Heavyside Lair. I would no longer be a cat.  
In order to preserve my soul from even the most forgiving of Jellicles, I committed a terrible crime, not able to bear never seeing my best friend again. I kidnapped Munkustrap for years. He grew up under my steel paw.  
His pain, out of all of those I have shattered to the point of no return up to this point in time, is the prettiest. His agony was and still remains the most beautiful. And then, when he no longer screamed at my claws, no longer shuddered when I walked in, no longer cried at night, I released him.  
His heart was completely empty.  
But even more brilliant than his crushed mind and soul was the life he regained upon his return. He devoted his whole being to protecting his family from what had happened to him, didn’t tell anyone what had occurred in those short years. And I can do nothing but thank him. After all, if he hadn’t instilled that natural hate into those up-and-coming kittens, and every member of the clan, I wouldn’t still be here to see him as he tries to live with the breathtaking mangled emptiness that fills him like a chasm.

Rum Tum Tugger POV

It has been three years since Munkustrap returned from Macavity’s claws, and not once has he spoken about it. In fact, he hasn’t spoken much at all. There’s something behind his eyes, hiding behind the fire, that is small and aloof and broken.  
It is almost empty, something nearly tangible but so far away. And we all wonder as he stalks past vigilantly what happened so long ago that haunts him even today.  
I glance behind me, realizing that for the fourth time this morning, there’s a small crowd of the new generation of kittens giggling and following me.  
“Oh, hi,” I drawl, walking towards them. “I have to admit, you are a persistent bunch. A cute persistent bunch.” They gasp and burst into high-pitched chatter as I pop a hip and smirk. They are such an easy group to entertain.  
I swagger off, a smile lingering on my face, my eyes scanning the junkyard for one of my favorite cats, Mistoffelees. A shy tuxedo cat, he often found narrow spots to hide that my fluffy form couldn't slide through to. Sure enough, I see him perched high above the junkyard, in the mouth of a pipe that seemed to be only the width of my muzzle. I roll me eyes and dart into the pile of scrap metal, weaving my way higher and higher until the haphazard structure creaked with my weight. Being a popular Maine Coon isn’t easy all the time, you know.  
I glance behind me to ensure that I wasn’t followed by the overenthusiastic kittens, then call, “Misto! Get down here where I can see you!”  
“You found me just fine, didn’t you?” replied the quiet but sarcastic voice.  
“Yeah, but you know I can’t get up there. You’re tiny.”  
“I’m not that small,” Misto complained, sliding gracefully down to a beam next to me. “You’re just a really big cat.”  
“And you’re a small one,” I reply with a hint of mischief creeping into my voice. He hits my head playfully and I return the sentiment, catching him by his scruff when my large paw knocks him over.  
“Hey!” He exclaims as I swing him around easily. “Stop it!”  
I snicker and set him down on a thin wire that he scrambles to get his footing on for a moment. When he returns to a stately feline position, he uses a paw to smooth his rumpled fur, shooting me an unamused look. He opens his mouth to speak, but he doesn’t even have time to make a sound before we can hear the kittens screeching down below. A lower wail from Demeter echoes across the junkyard as Bombalurina cries, “MACAVITY!” I trade a glance with Misto and we hurry to find a vantage point among the metal. Down below, Munkustrap is hissing, circling in perfect unison with an unkempt cat among shards of broken glass.  
The sadistic cat growls and lunges towards Munkustrap, who jerks backwards. Me and Misto both can see, however, that Munkustrap’s back is bleeding from a scratch, and that his chest is rising and falling heavily. _Not again,_ I think. I lunge desperately from the pile of junk and race towards Macavity, but I am too late. I watch as from seemingly nowhere, something bright and crackling hits Munkustrap, who collapses.  
I run faster, but Macavity leaps to Munkustrap’s fallen form, claiming it with a paw, and when I blink, both cats are mysteriously gone.  
_Macavity’s done it again,_ I think despairingly, sniffing at Munkustrap’s blood splattered on the newspaper. And who knows if we’ll ever see him again?

Munkustrap POV

Glass breaks.  
A kitten screams.  
A familiar, painfully, horrifyingly familiar name crosses the lips of every cat around me.

_Macavity.___

_ __ _

I feel my entire body shudder with a spasm of uncontrollable fear.

Pain sparks hot across my back.  
Macavity is across from me now, claws still dripping crimson.

He lunges.  
I barely dodge, my body jerky and stiff with fear.  
The memories are overwhelming.

I must protect my clan.

I see Macavity’s paw begin to glow and crackle with something that practically wipes me out right here.  
I remember how much it hurts.  
It’s so much effort to stay standing.

The lightning hits me with the force of a hundred trucks.  
My legs give out.  
My chest is exploding outside-in.  
I can’t breathe.  
My eyes close.  
I feel a viciously-clawed paw rest on my bleeding back.  
My body is numb.

I only have one thought before I black out entirely.

Everlasting Cat, please not again.

  
  


###### Thanks for reading, and I’ll be back soon with some more words for you guys! Sorry if these first few chapters are pretty short — they’re the beginning of something great! ;)


	2. We’re All Helpless

Munkustrap POV

My eyes open on a seemingly unfamiliar landscape. But my eyes adjust, and the room is more familiar than I’d like to admit. I slam my eyes shut again.  
I can feel splinters digging into my skin from the rotting wood floor. Cold metal bands wrap tightly around my paws, reminding me of the scars that I used to have there. My body hurts. I remember the scratch and the lightning, and I am suddenly far more aware of my pain.  
For some reason, an image of Macavity when we were younger comes to my mind. Before Gus found out he was hurting the newborns, I considered him my best friend. I even considered him cute.  
What happened? I think, a sick feeling in my stomach. Why did he leave? We could have fixed it, helped him, but he left… and I—   
I cut off that train of thought instantly. I try to get to my feet, but I realize that another constant has returned — thin chains on the shackles binding my paws to the ground.  
I miss Old Deuteronomy. I miss the Jellicles. I miss the time when I didn’t take it upon myself to protect them. I feel my stomach lurch as I try not to be so anxious, and I dry heave.  
Everlasting, I’m shaking. Good grief.  
“Munkus,” a raspy voice hisses. My heart stops. This was inevitable. “I missed you.”  
“Like heck you did,” I reply as I try not to shake. I don’t turn my head, so I am staring straight into Macavity’s dark eyes. I don’t know how I didn’t see that psychotic glint in them before.   
Macavity’s voice is oddly gentle, husky from disuse, as he says, “I did.”  
I can’t speak. My throat closes up as I try not to freak out further. Macavity is silent for a long while, and a memory flits to my mind.

_“You can either let me electrocute you to near-death, or you can keep this hot coal in your paw until it cools. The catch is, you would have to do it yourself.”_  
Macavity’s voice sounds harder and more harsh than it does now, or maybe it’s just his tone. I remember my then-small paws trembling as I gingerly took the hot coal with my claws. My heart hammered, and it was so hard to tell my body that I would survive. I was frozen for a long moment.   
Macavity’s glare was an incentive to move, however. I gripped the burning object in my fist. At first, it was just warm. But after a split-second, it began to burn. My first instinct was to throw it across the room, but I didn’t dare. I would rather suffer a little bit willingly than a lot unwillingly.  
I bit my lip, whimpering in pain as I tried to keep from screaming.  
Tears came to my eyes, streamed down my face as my paw burned. I felt hate, just as hot as the coal, bubble inside me, and it kept the pain at bay until the agony was bearable.  
And since that day, I’ve never felt anything more than a hollow, agonizing emptiness and anger. 

Macavity spoke again, “Munkus—”   
I feel my face contort with disgust at the childhood nickname he insists upon using.  
“Munkus,” he continues. “Everyone makes mistakes, don’t they?” His voice sounds oddly… repentant. His expression is unreadable.  
“Oh, yes,” I spit. “It just so happens that yours were and are unforgivable.”   
A long moment of silence. He turns his back to me.  
“I know. I’m planning on letting you go. I just wanted to remind you to never stop hating me. And to tell you that I think you are so much more than what you've made yourself into.”  
What? My body is tense. I can’t comprehend what he is saying. And in a whirl of magic, I find myself lying in my den, unbound and safe. And words come to my mind that I never thought would, hidden from my hate for years because of a long-lost friendship.  
_Macavity? What you did was unforgivable and unforgettable — it has scarred me forever. But I think — I think that a little part of me forgives you. For whatever reason. Something inside me says I am wrong to hate you. And all of me wishes you were still a Jellicle. Because we could’ve fixed this._

Macavity POV

I hope that serves to remind him. I constantly live in fear of what could happen should someone forgive me my crimes. I never want to live in the world as anything but a cat.  
A pit forms in my stomach, and I lie down. The world is spinning, and my father's words are whirling through my brain.

_“If a sole soul receives you still_  
Into their heart of their own free will  
Your graceful form you’ll lose to the Lair  
And you’ll be trapped forever there.” 

My throat is dry and I can hear my blood pounding in my ears. I flick my tail, but set it down when a wave of nausea rolls through me. Stars and sparks explode behind my eyes, and when I open them, nothing is the same.  
Firstly, I notice that I am a little smaller than I was. The surroundings are painfully fluorescent, and I am cold. So, so cold. I open my mouth to say something about it, but all that comes out is a wail.

I make a terrible realization.

I am human.

WARNING: MENTIONS OF SUICIDE  
Narrator POV — Twelve Years Later

From birth, Michael Scotsman was different. He had violent tendencies and displayed aggressive behavior. He was a ginger kid, with wild hair and sharp features, and dark eyes that gleamed with malice. His parents didn’t know what to think.  
He came out as gay within four years of his life and never changed his mind.  
And from a very young age, he found beauty in others’ pain. This behavior in such a critical society put him both at the top of the food chain and in a deep dark pit of emotion.  
He developed severe depression at an incredibly young age as well, and he shut everyone else off from himself. He got eight cats as pets and switched between hugging them and hurting them.  
His mental development, however, was superior to anyone else of his age. His personality reflected that of an adult, trapped in a child’s body. He was very ‘creative,’ his parents said. They tried to raise him religiously, but when they asked him about his beliefs, he always said the same thing.  
“The Everlasting Cat sent me here for a reason, and I must suffer accordingly.”  
They had never mentioned nor heard of such a deity, and when they questioned him about it he shrugged and didn’t respond.

He successfully committed suicide at age twelve.

But the Everlasting Cat had another plan for the lost, hurting soul of Michael Scotsman, otherwise known as Macavity.

His soul returned to his fallen form, laying as if in a coma. For the first week of his reprise life as a Jellicle, his body was so stiff and cold that he could do nothing but shake and try to regain control of his being.  
But when Macavity stood again, he was different. Changed. And the curse from so, so long ago was broken. He, in his own right, had obtained that extra life so many Jellicles vy for.

Macavity POV 

My legs are shaking so violently that I feel like an infant all over again. But instead of being a human, I am —

Feline.

I’m a cat again.  
Has the curse been broken? Can I finally go home? Have a family?  
I have been lying, cold and wet, for I don’t even know how long, right where I fell twelve years ago. Has it really been that long?  
My first order of business is to groom myself. My fur is matted all over and my claws are long and painful. I scratch the floor, hating but accepting the feeling of my claws snapping and breaking. They are jagged, sharp from the uneven lines that they broke on. I lick and comb at my long, unruly fur until it shines, relishing the familiar feeling of tongue-on-fur.  
A sigh of air rushes from my lungs and I feel something that has eluded me for at least twenty years on my face. An honest-to-goodness smile.  
I am… happy.  
Everlasting, this is strange. Why is it when I am at a low, I feel happy? Why is it, when I am dusty and long-forgotten, with depression pressing in on me like a claustrophobic blanket, when I have lived in such murky waters for twelve years, that I feel the most… free?

I stare at the shattered windows of the abandoned house with new understanding. I can see my dark eyes reflected back in millions of pieces in the broken glass, and I realize something.

We all have pain. We all hurt sometimes, and we can’t control it most of the time.

But we have emotions. We have love, hate, fear, and sorrow.

We have each other. And pain should not be borne by anyone.

Not the wicked or the righteous.

Not the pretty or the ugly.

Not the quiet or the loud, nor the humble or the proud.

We are all unique.

We need to support each other.

As friends, lovers, and family.

Tears are freezing on my face, and I realize that I am shivering violently. It is briskly cold, but shame heats me to the core. This shame, the embarrassment and guilt of what I did, weighs on me like a car. I did horrible things. But I can fix them.

I hope.

I snarl and leap through an open window, smiling at the brisk wing ruffling through my fur. I land somewhat unsteadily, but that is to be expected. And I run. I throw my whole, frozen, stiff being into running towards the junkyard, a mad dash that I fully intend to complete. I skid to a stop before crashing into a mound of junk, totally out of breath.   
And I see Munkustrap standing sentry atop a mound. He sees me, and his eyes widen as he freezes for a moment. Then, he leaps into action, lithe body making a majestic leap towards me. I do not resist as he tackles me, as quick as a flash. I grin uncontrollably, and he huffs confusedly, “Why are you smiling?”  
“I’m free,” I hiss. His eyes widen again as he realizes that I have not been seen for twelve years, and I should not be here. I should be dead. And that last sentence sounds a bit sinister in that context. Whoops.  
“H-how did you get here?” he growls. “You should be dead!”  
“I’m not,” I reply matter-of-factly.  
“I’m taking you in,” Munkus says roughly, dragging me into the pile of scrap metal.  
“You sound just like a human cop,” I smirk as he brings me to the Jellicle Lair.  
“Shut up,” he snarls as he tosses me roughly onto the ground, and I feel my body hit the newspapered dirt hard. The air rushes out of my lungs and I sit up slowly, trying to regain my breath.  
My heart stops for a moment as I see someone I had hoped was dead, although with my luck, I was pretty sure he’d be here anyway. My dear, old father, Old Deuteronomy.

His expression was a mix of pure horror and utter disgust.

And as Munkustrap pushed my head into the dust, to prevent me from escaping, I see his large, furry feet begin to limp towards me.

######  Thanks for reading and I’ll see you in a few days with the next chapter!

###### 


	3. The Cursed Name Of Old Deuteronomy

Macavity POV

He’s right above me, old heavy body terrifying as he towers over me. However, my pride won’t let me shake any more than I have today, so I don’t show the fear coursing through my veins right alongside adrenaline.  
“Macavity.” Old Deuteronomy’s voice sounds shocked. “How did you manage to…” he is speechless.  
“Come back to life after twelve years in the Heavyside?” I suggest, my voice slightly muffled from my face being pressed into the dust. “Easy. I died.”  
“Died?” Old Deuteronomy mumbles, his eyes glazed. “Macavity, you should not have done this. Had you lived a normal life in the Heavyside, everything would be alright. You screwed everything up. Everlasting…”  
“What did I do this time?” I ask, annoyed. He blames me for everything. Just because I hurt kits, killed people, and committed every crime known to both cat and humankind, doesn’t mean I’m responsible for every thing that goes even slightly awry.  
Old Deuteronomy glances around warily before ordering, “Munkustrap, bring him to my den and then leave. I need to speak to Macavity in private.”  
Munkustrap looks stricken as he argues, “Old Deuteronomy, be reasonable. You are old, and he is a ferocious criminal. What if he attacks you?”  
“You may stand outside the door, and come in if it reaches dusk before we have finished,” Old Deuteronomy nods. Munkustrap reluctantly lifts his foot from my head, quickly using his claws to threaten me. He twists my arms behind my back and holds them there as he shoves me towards the old tire, a warm light coming from behind it.  
It is then that I realize how cold I am, and my body shudders with a shiver I try to suppress. It must be midwinter here, for gray clouds cover the sky, letting a sharp wind slice the air, and although I feel like it is but barely evening, the sky is well on its way to darkness. There would be little time for Old Deuteronomy to tell me what he wanted, fortunately.  
We reach my father’s den, and Munkustrap finally releases me, pushing me into the den and glaring at me until the door is fully closed. Old Deuteronomy sits slowly and gestures for me to join him. How odd.  
I sit uncomfortably across from him, unsure of what to expect, but keeping my hubristic facade, I settle in a seemingly relaxed position.  
“Macavity,” Old D begins. “There are certain laws to magic, laws that apply to almost every magician and practitioner. When these laws are broken, terrible things happen.”  
“Why are you telling me this?” I ask dryly. “As you must know, I am just a humble criminal with bare-minimum powers. I would hardly need to know the laws of full-fledged magic, unless of course, you wanted me to break those, too.” My father sighs in exasperation.  
“But you have, Macavity. You have unwittingly broken laws I did not think were possible to break,” Old D says heavily.  
“That’s my specialty,” I say with false confidence. “Every law has a way to be broken. You just gotta think outside the box.”  
“Anyway,” he says, trying to ignore my interjection. “Strange, inexplicable things occur when these laws are broken, and such has happened here amongst the Jellicles. When you found a way to escape your Heaviside prison, you managed to break a curse that should have lasted a lifetime, and many more. In doing so, my magic was affected, and every spell I have ever cast is completely ineffective now. Curses included.”  
“So?” I ask. “Should this be alarming to me?”  
“This includes the long-age spell I cast on every Jellicle the day they are born. So I have even fewer days to live, and Jenny, Gus, and Grizabella are getting close to death as well. Even you will start to age and wither. I only know of one cat who has anywhere near enough power to recompense these effects, although in my pride I failed to find need to train him. He is woefully underprepared, and most likely will not be able to replicate even one spell I have performed.”  
“Who is it?” I ask impatiently. “And why are you trusting me with all this information?”  
“Because you are my son,” Old Deuteronomy said humbly. “And I was wrong in the past to curse you, I should have given you a chance to redeem yourself. Now let me redeem myself.”  
“Cool,” I say. “But _who is it_?”  
“Your younger brother,” my father sighs. “Mistoffelees.”  
“Why haven’t you trained him?” I hear myself ask accusingly. “If you knew he had powers like yours, he should’ve been your apprentice. Now he’s practically grown.”  
Old Deuteronomy bows his head and sits in silence for a moment, before continuing: “I was a fool. Now, I need you to take Munkustrap (because you know he won’t have it any other way), and I need you to find Mistoffelees. Since my magic has stopped working, he has a lot of work to do.”  
Understanding the weight of the situation, I nod and stand gracefully. I walk out of the den, to Munkustrap’s claws against my throat.  
“I swear,” he growls, our noses practically touching. “If you touched a hair on his head, I will kill you ten times over.”  
“Actually,” I say coolly. “I have a job from Old Doot-Doot himself. We’re going to find Mistoffelees.”

Munkustrap POV

I stand, fuming, for a few moments before following the brazen cat out into the rest of the junkyard. While Macavity might be a wicked criminal with little respect for order, I have no intentions of doubting Old Deuteronomy’s wishes. At least, I hope Macavity wasn’t lying.  
“Hey,” Macavity pauses. “Where is Misto’s den?”  
“Since when did you earn the right to call him Misto?” I snap, before stomping in the direction of Mistoffelees and Victoria’s den. They are siblings, and since both are currently mateless, they have nobody better to den with.  
Both of their tales are a bit convoluted and confusing. Nobody knows much about Mistoffelees’ past, other than that he’s Old D’s son and a bit of a sleight-of-hand artist. Victoria, on the other hand, was with the Jellicles from the beginning. I don’t know if anyone else remembers, but there was a single day of her life when she could speak. Her birth was accompanied by healthy yowls of a newborn kitten, and just from her wails I could tell she had a gorgeous voice. But the next day, and for the rest of her life, she mysteriously never made another sound.  
Annoyed, I enter to Victoria twirling in the open center. I glance around the den, immediately spotting where Mistoffelees was resting with his head on his paws, light eyes closed.  
“Mistoffelees?” I ask. “Sorry to bother you, but Old Deuteronomy needs you immediately.”  
Mistoffelees blinks himself awake, then says shyly, “No problem.” He stretches and yawns, then pads silently across the den, weaving around Victoria, to join me at the entrance. As we exit the den, Misto sees Macavity outside the den. It takes a second to register, then he jumps a foot in the air, hissing.  
“Don’t worry about me,” Macavity says brightly. “I’ve only just come back from Heavyside. Pleasant place, really.”  
“Please ignore the sadistic criminal,” I tell Mistoffelees in my most professional voice. “Hopefully we can do something about him once you meet with Old Deuteronomy.”  
“Yeah,” Misto eye’s Macavity warily. “Okay.” We return to Old D’s den, where I am pleased to see Old D alive and well. I keep a close eye on Macavity as he shivers in the cold. I don’t let him pass me, preventing him from entering Old D’s den as Misto walks in quietly, posture aloof.  
I take it upon myself to watch Macavity’s every movement, and he proceeds to be inconceivably boring. Mistoffelees and Old Deuteronomy seem to take _forever_ in there, and I find myself distracted by the laughter coming from the warm glow of others’ dens. I am very cold, my paws practically numb, and although my fur is thick, even I am not impervious to the sharp bite of the winter air or the pangs of loneliness of a dutiful cat.  
Everybody is content to socialize in their dens, where warmth and light fill the room and nobody is left alone. Although, their sense of security comes from constantly having a cat on watch to protect them, so really, there is always at least one cat left out. And it’s usually me.  
I sigh, not bothering to brush the dust of the day from my fur in favor of watching Macavity. Who (surprise!) is still boring.  
Finally, Old Deuteronomy opens the door, and leans an exhausted Mistoffelees on my shoulder. I put a paw around him as Old D closes the door, leaving me standing at his den awkwardly with a half-conscious cat and a renowned criminal. With a bit of struggle, I manage to drop Mistoffelees off at his den, and then, against my better judgement, I allow Macavity to join me in my own den.  
As I watch him steal half the blankets in my den and lay on them with a swagger in his step, I know it’s going to be a long night.

Mistoffelees POV

What just happened? My dad, Old Deuteronomy, wanted to see me. Munkustrap came and got me, and he was accompanied by MACAVITY?  
And I am so exhausted that Munkustrap has to practically carry me to my den.

_“Again. You have to try again.”_

Old Deuteronomy’s voice echoes in my head as I crawl to my bed with Vicky’s help, curling up. I shudder, my body complaining and uncooperative. My paws hurt from trying to cast something called a “long-age spell.” Apparently, all of Old D’s magic has gone kaput after Macavity returned, and for some reason, and I am the only Jellicle with the power to save everyone.  
Not that I have any experience. Old Deuteronomy spent so long trying to teach me how to do more magic than I normally do, which isn’t much, as if he thought there was some sort of unlocked chest of magic in me somewhere. I promise you, there isn’t. The most magic I can do is restore the lights, do a few conjuring tricks, that’s about it. Old D is way more powerful than I could ever dream to be. My entire being is wholly drained of any energy — the pressure on me is too high to try to be mediocre.  
Vicky must’ve noticed my exhaustion, because she settles close to me, holding food that was undoubtedly pilfered by Mungo and Rumpel. I don’t mind; after all, I’m absolutely famished. We eat in a comfortable silence, with her warmth laying up against my cold form.  
When we’ve both finished, she heads to her bed, and I lay my head down, remembering, with some dread, what Old D told me as he helped me to the door.

_“The existence of the Jellicles depends on you. Come back the instant you wake up tomorrow, and we’ll keep working.”_

I don’t want to keep working. I am afraid. Afraid for the Jellicles, afraid or what will happen both if I fail or if I succeed, afraid of trying.

But nonetheless, I will try.

Because it appears that I am the only hope for the Jellicles, and that’s not going to change.

######  Thanks for reading again, and I’ll be back in a few days to give you the next chapter! If long blocks of conversation really aren’t your thing, don’t worry, it’ll get more exciting! 

###### 


	4. Curses Aren’t Just For Main Characters

Demeter POV

I see Bomba strutting towards Tugger’s den, but I don’t go out to meet her. I’d rather stay inside right now. I huff and lay my head on my paws, waiting for the familiar tug of magic that lifts me to my feet when Old Deuteronomy needs something. Sometimes, it is a burden to be bound to the aging leader of the clan, but I tell myself that it is for the good of the clan.  
The thought that he might just be puppeteering me has crossed my mind before, but I try to push it away. I’m pretty sure he can tell what I am thinking anyway.  
After a few minutes, Bomba stalks frustratedly across the cold courtyard, her anger fueling her warmth as she heatedly hissed and yowled.  
I should go out to talk to her, but I don’t want to be interrupted by Old D’s spell. This spell has been interfering with my life, but it is rather a point of shame to admit that I am magically bound to Old Deuteronomy.  
Any minute now, I’ll be forced to get up and help Deuteronomy. Any minute.

Any minute.

Minutes pass into hours, and I am still free as a bird. What happened? Does he not need me as much anymore? Either way, I am ecstatic. I’m going to go find Bomba, who has gone back inside her den, presumably to fume.  
I saunter into her den, draping myself on a piece of junk as she stands to greet me.  
“Hey Bomba,” I grin.  
“What’s got you in such a good mood?” she growls.  
“I dunno,” I reply lazily. “What’s got you in such a bad mood?” Bomba made a face.  
“Tugger is being all exclusive again,” she pouted. “Don’t worry, Bomba,” I reassure her. “You’ll have more opportunities.” Something catches my eye outside, some motion in the dim fairy lights illuminating the nighttime junkyard. I squint, not believing what I’m seeing.  
“Macavity…” I trail off.  
“What?” Bombalurina looks confused.   
“Look outside, just past Munkus and Mistoffelees,” I say, unable to comprehend what he is doing here, casually walking beside Munkustrap as if he’d been a Jellicle his whole life. Speaking of lives, we haven’t seen him for years. When did he come back?  
“Oh, I see him,” Bomba comments. “Didn’t he like, die ten years ago?”  
“Twelve,” I correct her. “But yes, in theory, he should be dead.”  
Bombalurina can’t take her eyes off the Mystery Cat, and I roll my eyes, sarcastically saying, “Speaking of having more opportunities…”  
She bats a paw at my ear and I catch it, and soon we are engaged in a friendly tussle, all talk of boys forgotten. I had forgotten how good it feels to not have to worry about Old Deuteronomy all the time, just to have a free minute and hang out. Breathing heavily, we break apart from our play fight and grin crazily at each other. We start giggling hysterically, and we flop backwards onto the floor, trading a glance that makes us burst into more laughter.  
This is nice. Just two gals laughing our heads off on the floor. No guys trying to woo us, no people to look after, only friends.  
Finally, I feel free from my burden, the heavy strings of magic that attach me to Old Deuteronomy.  
Me and Bomba’s laughter settles down, and we lay on the floor in contented silence.  
It’s a simple, real joy.

Victoria POV

Mistoffelees has already left when I wake up. Whatever is happening right now, I hope he takes care of himself.  
He’s been a good brother to me. He always knows what I wants and needs, when nobody else does. Not being able to make a sound is often difficult in a world full of conversation, but I have Misto for that. Besides, I don’t need to speak to dance, and that is what matters to me. I like to think that in an alternate universe, I have a lovely, irresistible voice.  
I yawn and stretch, then begin to dance. I love the way I feel when I can leap through the air, hold myself at impossible angles, twirl for a seemingly infinite amount of time. I really am a ballerina. I smile.  
After my practice, I pad outside. Snow has fallen overnight and I blend right in, although I don’t want to be outside for long; it’s absolutely freezing. I poke my head into Pouncival’s den, where he is seated, eating.  
I thump my tail on the ground until he hears me, and when he looks up, he smiles and invites me in, gesturing grandly for me to take a seat by him.  
I feel my face heat up and I sit, letting him get me a small bird corpse from the back of his den. I nod in thanks and begin to eat, letting him talk.  
“So, Vicky,” he says through a mouth full of canary. I silently giggle. “How have you been? You haven’t visited in a while.”  
I give him a thumbs-up and smile.  
“That’s good,” he says, leaning back on one hand. “I hear Misto came stumbling home last night. What’s up there?” I shrug, and he nods. I’m reminded of one of the reason why I like Pouncival so much — he doesn’t just ask me yes-or-no questions. Many of the other cats do because they don’t know how else to talk to me.  
Pouncival leans forward as if about to tell a secret, and whispers, “Have you heard the rumors? Apparently Bomba saw _Macavity_ last night.”  
I make a couple of gestures to silently ask Pouncival ‘he’s alive again?’ It takes Pouncival a minute to figure out, but when he does, he replies, “Apparently so! And he was with Munkustrap, from what I’ve heard.” I make a surprised expression and he smiles, grabbing the last bite of his canary and wolfing it down.  
“Do you have anything to do today?” he asks hopefully. “Because me and some of the other cats were planning on playing some hide-and-seek, if you wanna join us.” I nod enthusiastically and clap my paws.  
“Great!” he looks relieved. “I think they’re starting on the tiger newspaper.”  
I grin and follow him outside, joining a group of cats (including Cassandra, Jellylorum, Coricopat, Alonzo, Electra, Jemina, and Etcetera) on the newspapered ground, wet and torn with snow. Alonzo yells, “Alright! The junk piles other than boundary piles are off-limits, but dens are fair game — except the obvious; Old D’s den, and like, people who aren’t playing. Other than that, anywhere is free. I’ll seek first with… Etcetera.” Alonzo dragged Etcetera next to him and began counting loudly with his eyes closed.  
“Okay, that was abrupt,” Pouncival commented as we scamper off in search of a hiding place. He branches off, ducking under a piece of gross newspaper, and I aim high. I’m thinking of finding a perch among the scraps of metal on the heart of a boundary pile, so I make a beeline. I can still hear Alonzo slowly counting down as I move away, weaving my white-furred body through the rusty scraps. I climb slowly, until I am balanced high, high above the ground. Now that I think about it, it might’ve been smarter to hide in the snow, since I’m brilliantly white, but it’s too late now. I can see Alonzo and Etcetera on the prowl. I shrink back into the shadows, my heart pounding with adrenaline as Alonzo starts scaling my pile. My foot slips on a rusty piece of scrap, and I hear a strange noise as I begin to fall. I hit a jutting rod, and hear a yelp. Alonzo dashes up to where I have landed.  
“Victoria,” he says, expression awestruck. “Can you _speak_?”

Mistoffelees POV

I drag my feet all the way to Old Deuteronomy’s den. I really don’t want to do more magic today — usually it takes me a few days just to recuperate fully from a major conjuring trick. Unfortunately, I reach Old D’s den remarkably quickly.  
“Mistoffelees!” Old Deuteronomy exclaims as I knock on the door. “Welcome back, my magical boy! Please, come in, come in.” I walk into his den, my body relaxing in the warmth.  
“Let’s try the same thing as yesterday, yes? I need you to cast a vanishing curse on this stone.” Old D smiles, although there is a hint of urgency in his voice.  
_Getting right to the point_, I think, trying to pull any magic at all from my reserves. There is just enough to make the stone go somewhat translucent for a split second, but no more.  
Already I can feel the familiar fatigue setting in, and it sounds like he expects on keeping me all day. I shake my head slightly, staving off exhaustion. A thought comes into my head. _Instead of looking in the same place for something you know won’t be there, why not look somewhere else?_ I draw in a deep breath, letting my mind wander. I search so deep into myself that I can feel sweat beading my brow.  
And then, something clicks. I feel a rush of the dizzy tingle I get with magic, and I point my fingers at the rock. When I open my eyes, the rock isn’t there. I test the area with my foot to make sure that I didn’t just turn it invisible, that I actually made it disappear — and I don’t find it. Old Deuteronomy smiles, his eyes holding relief as he congratulates me. I am full of renewed energy from finding this hidden source of magic, and I feel like I could cast spells for days. Unfortunately, Old Deuteronomy seems to be aching to prove me wrong. Time passes like a snail.  
I have a pounding headache, I’m absolutely starving, and my throat is parched. My paws are shaking with effort, and I’m seeing spots. It’s only been an hour.  
As we practice, Old D teaches me to find tiny hidden vaults of magic within myself. They’re enough to sustain me for the time being, but they’re all running low now. I’m sure if they were all full, I would have awesome capabilities, but for now I am struggling just to stay standing.  
I try the particular spell we are attempting again. I have ended up on the floor, somehow. My mind is cloudy and my vision spins and doubles. I feel myself gagging, and I black out.

###### Again, thanks for reading, and in a few days I will have another chapter for you guys! I’m very excited to finally get this written! :) 

###### 


	5. NOT A CHAPTER — ANOUNCEMENT

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This isn’t that scary I promise

Ok so — I haven’t written on this for a long time! I’m so so sorry! I’m planning on writing more, and there are some major rides for some of you ;)))) BUT I definitely am going to finish this at some point! Let’s just say it’s on pause!

Thank you guys so much!

ILYASM!!!


	6. Chapter 6 — Something You Didn't Know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Rum Tum Tugger finally makes his appearance! And he and Misto have some good wholesome... well, I’ll let you read it.

Rum Tum Tugger POV

Old Deuteronomy called me over a couple minutes ago and asked me if I could take care of Mistoffelees. Of course I said yes, but I am interested in what’s going on across the yard. Apparently Vicky’s vocal cords have suddenly begun to function again?  
I’m a little fuzzy on the details, but from what I could gather from Pouncival, the kittens were playing hide-and-seek, Vicky fell, and she made a little noise.  
I head over to Old D’s den, where he is waiting for me. Mistoffelees is lying on the ground, breath shallow and paws trembling. I cradle him carefully as I pick him up, his short dark fur soft on my paws, and I leave, ducking through the low doorway of Old D’s extensive den.  
Removing his bow tie, I carry the small tom across the junkyard to my own den, resting him on a mound of blankets. Mistoffelees is burning hot, so I find myself resting a snow-soaked rag on his forehead. His small, curled-up body shivers with the chill.  
A smile crosses my face and I sit back on my haunches. I lick my paw absentmindedly as I watch the tuxedo cat, curling and uncurling my tail to count the seconds.  
His tiny ribcage finally shudders with a real breath, and his body, previously coiled with tension, relaxes into a deep sleep. He looks absolutely exhausted, poor cat. Old Deuteronomy has really been running him hard since Macavity returned — something about a curse. I adjust my belt, running a finger over the shiny studs with a grin.  
I meander over to a corner of my den, where a pile of shiny bits and bobs hides beneath a ratty blanket that I never use. I lift the blanket and sit in front of the pile, feeling the cool odds and ends spill through my fingers, calming my nerves that I didn’t know I had. I guess seeing Mistoffelees in such a state has me more worked up than I’d care to admit. I hear coughing from where Mistoffelees is lying, and I hurry over to him. I duck outside to grab a handful of snow, ignoring the nip of the wind. As soon as I bring the snow into my warm den, it begins to melt, and I drip the water into Mistoffelees’ mouth. He swallows, and I can’t help but admire the way his shiny fur ripples whenever he moves. After a while, he begins to mumble, his entire form shaking and burning hot. Worriedly, I stick the now-warm rag into the snow outside, replacing it on his forehead. This isn’t a conventional illness — I’d have no idea what to do even with the help of an expert. He probably expended too much magic, although doing what, I have no idea.  
I use my rough tongue and begin licking his fur, which was dusty and coarse from sweat and grime. His fur is soft, even when dirty, and his scent makes my fur tingle. Minty and crisp, an almost electric smell. I clean his ears and head, then get to work on his paws. Cleaning someone else is a nice change — after all, this hairball will be infinitely easier to hack up than with my own fur, which is sometimes annoyingly long and thick.  
His paws are warm and zap me with a static shock when I first lick them. If you’ve never been shocked on the tongue, it is a strange sensation indeed. I flick an ear and continue to clean him, my long, poofy tail curling around his small body. His form cools slowly, still retaining the warmth of life, but not on the verge of turning into a feline fireball.  
Just as I finish licking him clean, he shifts, muscles rippling beneath his shimmery fur. He’s not that strong of a cat, but his fur accentuates the little muscle he has and makes it beautiful. His tail thumps against my body lightly, and he stretches his paws. He claws the blankets he’s on before settling again, still asleep.  
And he opens his dark eyes, the fairy lights in my ceiling reflecting in his pupils like galaxies.

Mistoffelees POV

I drift in and out of a hazy sleep, my head pounding.   
I am so warm…  
I feel my bow tie being lifted from my neck. I am picked up off the ground. Everything spins — I can’t move.   
My limbs are like lead.  
What time is it?  
I am burning up… somebody help me. And I feel a chill. Relief comes.  
It’s hard to breathe; I don’t have enough energy to. My body understands. I take a deep, shuddering breath.  
I fall asleep again.

I wake up — how long has it been?  
I cough, my throat dry. I taste water, cold and refreshing. Who is taking care of me?  
No, my mind is too foggy.  
I am warm again.  
Hot.  
My body is spasming.  
An inferno.  
The cool bliss comes again.  
I relax.  
I feel a form beside me, a cat much larger than myself. I am only half-conscious but I feel a rough tongue begin to clean my fur, and I start to relax. My body is starting to recuperate. A static shock leaps from my paw to the Jellicle cleaning me, and I want to smile. I am still, after all, the Magical Mister Mistoffelees.  
After a while, whoever-it-is finishes cleaning me. I want to thank them. I realize that I can now move a little. I shift, stretching my limbs and unsheathing my claws. I turn on my back, even that movement exhausting my overtaxed body.  
I wrench open my eyes. Still groggy, it takes me a moment to register who had been caring for me.

The Rum Tum Tugger sits placidly by my side, curious eyes framed by wild fur and a cocky half-smile.

“Tugger.” My voice comes out stronger than I had expected it to.  
“Rise and shine, tiny,” Tugger grins, although his expression is somewhat subdued, indicating that there’s something on his mind. “Took you a while.”  
“How long have I been out?” I ask, working to sit up. I feel my muscles screaming to stop, but I determinedly make it to an upright position, refusing to be any shorter than I already am, especially compared to Tugger.  
“Only a couple hours,” Tugger replies, his bright eyes following my slow progress. “Do you need some help?”  
“No,” I say adamantly, trying to keep myself sitting up. I can feel my body swaying unwillingly, though, so I lean on Tugger. It’s a relief; although not much of one.   
Tugger’s eyes contain an emotion I didn’t think I’d see in him — innocent awe, perhaps relief as well. I rub my nose against his scruff, breathing in his earthy scent of leather.   
Tugger bends his head and reciprocates the affection, strangely gentle as he presses his own nose to the back of my neck. His nuzzle is oddly close to my chin, which is more of a mate thing to do than a friend thing to do. Is he trying to tell me something? I wonder, but almost immediately shake the thought away. No, Tugger is too confident for this to have been on purpose — he would’ve just said something if he had felt that way. I hope.  
I look up at him, his fluffy mane almost obscuring my vision of his face as he moves upright again. His spiked collar glints in the light, a subtle but effective method to draw my eyes to his sleekly-patterned muzzle. He glances down at me and tosses a wink, his fur rippling with the motion, and I smile. For a split-second, I think I see a hint of a blush spread across his striped cheeks, but I must be imagining things, no matter how much I’d like it.

Rum Tum Tugger POV

Mistoffelees smiles sweetly as I wink at him, and I feel my face heat up, my heart — and probably eyes — alight with hope. Perhaps this tiny, oblivious cat will finally return my affections. But then again, maybe not.  
Out of all the Jellicles, the one I had to fall in love with was the one who never has and never will notice me. I would trade his nonexistent affections for Bomba’s or the kittens’ over enthusiastic affections any day.   
I remember that I still have his bow tie, and paw it over to him. He ducks his head gratefully, letting me clumsily clasp the collar with my claws. Without my claws, my large paws are not nimble enough to work the small human newfanglery.  
As soon as I get the clasp closed, I reluctantly step back, letting Misto adjust it as he will.   
He exhales slowly and stands. After a short pause, he looks at me and asks simply, “Why did you bother to take care of me? You could’ve dropped me off at my den — but you didn’t. Why?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! So. The next chapter is gonna take a bit, since I haven’t written it yet. At all. Ya welcome. But, I am hoping to finish this; the plot I'm hoping will be really quality. I’ve just been very busy, but I’ll try my best to get more chapters posted soon! :’)


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